


Blue Eyes and Black Leather

by NeonMidnightMod



Category: wrestling - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-21
Updated: 2009-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonMidnightMod/pseuds/NeonMidnightMod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NC-17; m/m, angst, language, B&D, D/S, minor bloodplay, in-character.</p><p>A few days after the fateful night of Dec 4, 1991. Broken-hearted, Marty seeks some retribution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Eyes and Black Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Maintainer note: The author of this story is Orchid, fic originally archived with permission at Neon Midnight (geocities.com/dedicatedtotherockers).

  
  
He looked closely at the right side of his face in the mirror. The doctors had said there wasn't going to be any permanent reminders of his meeting with the sheet of glass. His heart beat a little faster, though, when he thought of how close it had come to his eyes. A few paltry millimeters closer and he would have been blinded. He frowned in remembrance of that night.

 

Shawn had claimed to love him just before they'd walked onto the set of Brutus' Barbershop to set the record straight. What a joke.

 

The Rockers were supposed to have told the world that they were not on the verge of a split. They were going to be around a long time and have a long reign as tag champions once they got their hands on Hawk and Animal, the Legion of Doom.

 

Not once had Marty been given any clue about the superkick that was going to impact with his jaw and it wasn't even the first time he'd been struck with the move. Not once had he ever thought he'd hear his beautiful Shawn proclaim that the Rockers were no more, that the great Shawn Michaels was going solo. When he'd finally gotten past the fuzziness in his mind, Marty had been more than crushed to find himself in Brutus' arms instead of Shawn's, he'd been devastated.

 

It had been Shawn that had hurt him, though, hadn't it? He hadn't even come to apologize for his actions in the handful of days that had passed since. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't certain that he would accept it, if it did come.

 

"What did I do wrong, Shawn? Did I mess up somewhere so badly that you don't want me around any more?" he whispered to his own reflection. His vibrant blue eyes dimmed as he focused on the few stitches marring his temple. (He refused to admit that the glassiness might be unshed tears. Men didn't cry.) Shawn Michaels, his tag team partner and other half, had drawn his blood. He could only imagine that it had been on purpose.

 

Marty's father had always taught him there was one way to retaliate when blood was drawn. He saw no reason not to fall back on that lesson now. Wiping harshly at the not-tears that crept wetly past his full, dark lashes with the heel of one hand, he struggled to with all his strength to regain his composure. He was not going to fall apart just because Shawn Michaels had turned his back on him.

 

Yanking open the drawer of his nightstand, he grabbed up the cold, hard loops of metal lying within and frowned, struggling to replace the aching in his heart with anger. He'd been played for a fool one time too many now.

 

***

 

"Y'see, it's like this, Mr. McMahon," Shawn began leaning back in the chair. There was no one on the other side of the desk. He was talking to himself, practicing the speech he was planning to give the big man. "I've got my sights on big things and, well, what else can I say? Marty was only gonna hold me back from those things. You understand that, don't you?"

 

He paused, as if to allow his employer to get in a few words. After all, Vincent K. McMahon did thrive on speaking.

 

"Yeah, I know we were the hottest thing going, but a being in tag team can only get you so far. I want more than that in life. I want the world and I want the title around my waist," he explained to his imaginary boss. "Bouncin' around the ring with Marty just doesn't cut it if we're not even gonna get a decent shot at gold. Hell, the company doesn't even want to recognize that we won those belts, if only for a night."

 

An almost sincere smile spread across his face. That would start to get things across to McMahon, most definitely.

 

"The Rockers are dead, Vinny-boy; live with it. Marty Janetty just isn't good enough."

 

The door quietly slipped shut behind him. He sat up in surprise; he hadn't even heard it open! Spinning around to face the intruder, his mouth went dry and his heart pounded distressingly loud in his ears.

 

"I guess there's no reason I should be expecting an apology now, is there?" Marty asked, standing with slumped shoulders and sad blue eyes.

 

"Hey, baby," Shawn sputtered, his tongue tripping over the greeting as he swiftly rose to his feet. He noticed among other things, Marty was wearing the fitted black leather pants that Shawn had gotten him. He'd always told Marty that nothing got him hotter than the way they hugged his ass, tight against every line of his body. It was enough to make Shawn's heart drop into his stomach, churning in the acid, for the evil he had done to this man simply to further his own career. "I...I didn't mean for you to hear that, y'know?"

 

Marty stepped close, wisps of his shoulder-length brown hair gently falling around his tan face. "What's that supposed to be, huh? My apology? You're gonna have to do a whole fuckin' lot better than that, Shawn."

 

Having taken a few moments to collect himself, Shawn looked his partner (or was it former partner?) deeply in the eye. So blue and ungodly intense, like an endless summer sky, he thought.

 

"Marty, I'm sorry," he began, lifting his hands to cup the jaw of that sweet round face. "I never wanted to hurt you."

 

He was taken by surprise a second time when the first metal cuff locked around his wrist. The feel of that cold, chromed steel threw him off long enough for Marty to twist him around and drop him to the floor. A quick maneuver had the second cuff slipped around a sturdy drawer handle on the desk then wrapped around his other wrist. "Too little too late," Marty informed him, kneeling before him, straddled over one of his sprawled legs.

 

Shawn jerked at the cuffs, testing the hold they had on him. Both the drawer handle and the cuffs themselves refused to give. No doubt about it, he wasn't going anywhere.

 

"Marty...babe, c'mon! What are ya doin' to me here?"

 

"Something I shoulda done a long time ago," was the response.

 

When Shawn opened his mouth to speak further, thinking to get Marty to release him, a single finger placed against his lips hushed him. Marty shook his head silently before removing the slender digit.

 

"No words, Shawn. No more lies."

 

"Marty-"

 

A stinging slap registered across his cheek and Shawn stared up at Marty. He could feel the heat of the blow burning on his skin and knew the red color wouldn't be fading any time soon.

 

"I said no words, Shawn."

 

Shawn felt his insides quiver at the authority blazing in those blue eyes he'd once thought he'd fallen into forever. Though his mouth worked, it was soundless, his brain seeming to have realized that it had best keep a leash on his voice. He unconsciously leaned into the hand that Marty laid gently against his stricken cheek, the heat of the touch prickly on his skin.

 

The hand slipped softly beneath his chin and lifted his face.

 

"I did love you, Shawn, like no one else." Marty's lips pressed against his then, his slick tongue teasing Shawn's mouth open. Shawn felt his captor lean deeper into him, a strange tingle rushing over his body. It was different, not being the dominant one. A trill of fear shivered through him, combining potently with an intoxicating, spicy whiff of musk he'd always associated with Marty's arousal. It wasn't strong yet, but he sensed he'd get the full effect before the night was out.

 

When Marty finally allowed them to part, Shawn's first reaction was to open his mouth again to ask what this was about, Marty's raised hand stopped his words.

 

"Good boy," Marty intoned. As a reward for his obedience, Shawn was kissed again, Marty slowly feeding off his mouth the way they both knew he never would again once this meeting was over.

 

Shawn discovered every cell in his body willing him to let Marty do whatever he would. He'd never played this role and had certainly never thought to play it to Marty. It was frightening to think Marty could hurt him badly and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. It was also strangely comforting to give up control, to relax into a state of total submission and let someone else lead the way.

 

Looking up into the eyes that were bluer than his own, Shawn let his surrender be apparent on his face. A gentle smile spread softly over Marty's lips and he nuzzled against Shawn's neck, burying his face in the length of blond hair. His hands slid over Shawn's broad shoulders, tracing the smooth lines of his form, down the thick muscles of his chest.

 

As Marty nipped at his throat, Shawn felt those slender hands slide down to his rear, strong fingers dipping into the back pockets of his jeans. He wasn't sure what Marty was after until he realized Marty was pulling out his pocketknife. His breathing quickened, his heart trembled in his breast. With wide eyes, Shawn looked up at Marty as his now former partner leaned back to toy with the knife, gently teasing one of the blades partly out to gleam in the gold lamplight.

 

His sight wavering between the glinting steel and Marty's sad eyes, Shawn swallowed hard and waited. He would not talk for Marty had already forbidden the act and punished him when he'd broken that rule. The knife's largest blade softly clicked into place, making Shawn's thundering heart come to an immediate standstill.

 

He lost contact with Marty's eyes when the other man lowered his gaze and reached for the neck of Shawn's shirt. Shawn shrank back from the cold metal when the knifeblade bit into the cotton, slowly and without interference slicing its way down through the bottom hem. He shivered under the touch of Marty's fingertips as they ran back up, pushing aside the material and trailing lightly over the exposed flesh. The knife was still balanced between Marty's thumb and index finger in one hand, the sharpened edge running perilously close to doing him harm.

 

Letting his head fall back against the desk, Shawn gasped quietly as Marty's mouth descended hot and wet on the hollow at the base of his throat. Marty knew this was one of his biggest weaknesses and the rough tongue lapped at the delicate skin with no remorse. His already too-fast breath became even sketchier, a tremble of desire bolting instantly into his belly. Gnawing at his lip, Shawn barely contained the moan that so desperately wanted out. He had no idea if that would be considered a punishable offence and was reluctant to find out with the knife in Marty's hand.

 

Shawn closed his eyes, feeling tears build, though he didn't know why, as Marty's mouth moved downward. He gently tongued one nipple then the other to alertness, visiting each a sharp nip before traveling lower. Still, Shawn remained silent, the only thing heard the distinct hissing of an indrawn breath. A flash of brilliant blue looking up at him from his navel put an end to any further sounds he might have made.

 

He bit his lower lip again, tasting the tang of blood this time, when the zipper on his jeans slid smoothly down, teasing. His body had been only partially cognizant of what was happening to it, but now...now there was no mistaking. Blood pulsed through his veins, the muscles in groin tightened, his cock throbbed within the confines of his underwear. This was not likely to end any time soon, he quickly realized. Not with Marty's present disposition.

 

Making no outward fuss when Marty scooted away, Shawn stared with pleading eyes as his cowboy boots and socks were removed and tossed aside. He lifted his hips when Marty's fingers gripped tight around the open waist of his black jeans. A long, lingering motion slithered the denim from his legs, the cloth soon joining his boots. Shawn flinched when Marty reached behind him with the knife, snipping the elastic holding his hair back.

 

Marty's tan fingers trailed the long, blond locks forward over his shoulders. "So beautiful," he whispered, running a thumb along the ridge of one high cheekbone. Then, with slow deliberation, Marty stood. He made sure Shawn was watching (certainly, he hadn't yet been able to look away) and proceeded to shed his own clothing. Again, it was a slow process, letting Shawn get an eyeful of exactly what he was losing.

 

"Please, Marty-" Shawn broke off whatever else his mouth wanted to say when those piercing blue eyes narrowed and he was struck across the face one more time.

 

"Don't make me hurt you, Shawn," Marty hissed, his anger glinting dangerously, but his voice quickly softened. "I don't want to, but I will."

 

When he finally stood naked, his member only half-aroused, Marty knelt before Shawn, this time straddled over both legs. He settled himself on the lightly furred limbs, though they were spread at an almost indecent angle. He tilted his head to one side and studied Shawn's face. Shawn, though, was aching to touch that flesh he'd come to know so well, run his hands possessively over every gentle angle, despairing that Marty had deprived him of the act.

 

He watched as Marty wet his lips with the tip of his delicious pink tongue. Swallowed hard when the bladetip of his pocketknife softly traced a seductive path from the dip of Marty's collarbone to just above his navel. Bit at lip when Marty's free hand smoothed down the same path, continuing down to cup his balls, stirring them for a moment then gripping his rising cock to stroke it to heavy fullness. Winced as the blade touched against his own hip and sliced through the dark cotton that still graced his abdomen.

 

First one side, then the other was slashed, laying Shawn's manhood bare and thrusting solidly forth into the open air. He could feel the hot, red blush spread across his face and would have tried to hide himself had his legs not been trapped beneath Marty. Instead, he dropped his eyes labored to be rid of his unusual embarrassment.

 

"What's wrong? Ashamed of yourself?" Marty inquired. "I really hope you are, Shawn, because this wouldn't mean anything to you otherwise."

 

Shawn felt fingers at his chin, raising his face from its abashed pose. He blinked his eyes wide open when Marty touched the point of the knife to his throat, drawing a fine line of blood down over his chest while Shawn silently prayed the knife went no deeper. The blade stopped low on his belly, just before trailing into the nest of curls between his thighs. Strangely, Shawn found his body was no less excited than before; thought maybe it was even more stimulated, a hot trickle of cum leaking down his length. For all their daredevil stunts in the ring, he and Marty had never brought any edge of danger into their loveplay. Now he had to wonder why.

 

In a leisurely move, Marty slid back far enough to lean down and lap up the dripping seed. He ran his tongue up the firm shaft as Shawn trembled beneath him, pausing to toss a gauging look into Shawn's eyes before licking upward over the thin trail of red that dribbled over the lightly tanned skin. Marty pressed against Shawn, the heated friction of their naked flesh sparking memories of what (once had?) existed between them.

 

Suddenly, their mouths meshed. Shawn tasted the hint of himself that lingered on Marty's tongue, both seed and blood. It spurred him on, urging him to lift his hips, grinding against his erection into Marty's pelvis. The moan rising in his throat promptly translated itself into a whimper, though, when Marty pulled away again. The space between them was not much, but it was more than enough to nearly drive the tears that had gathered in his eyes down his cheeks.

 

"No, Shawn," Marty murmured, his hands firm on Shawn's stubbled jaw. "It's not your turn to have control anymore."

 

Shawn watched intently as Marty reached for a small bottle on top of the desk he hadn't noticed Marty setting aside earlier. Quickly, he recognized the oil that had been their favorite lubrication. He had always been fond of the faint fragrance of sandalwood, thinking nothing blended better with the scent of his lover. The pocketknife was closed and placed on the floor. Shawn breathed a bit easier.

 

When Marty slipped aside to lift one of Shawn's legs over himself to rest on the far shoulder, Shawn offered him no defiance, instead helping the situation by rolling onto his hip for better balance. He was exposed completely now, but not really averse to the idea as warm oil was dribbled over his backside. Over his shoulder, Shawn saw Marty drip a small pool of oil into his hand, spreading slickness over both palms and all over his fingers before letting his left hand come in contact with Shawn's rear.

 

Shawn wiggled into the fingers that swept the softly scented oil on his buttocks, dipping teasingly between the firm cheeks of his ass to just barely brush against his puckered hole. Each little touch sent a million tiny electric jolts through him. He was more than sure that he was going to chew his lip off if this kept up. The threat of being slapped again was the only thing keeping him from begging Marty to just take him, ready or not.

 

Finally, one finger slipped inside him, slowly working deep until it could reach no farther. He breathing became heavy and stilted, just waiting for Marty to find the spot that would prod him through lust into insanity. Again and again, Marty thrust with his finger, only barely missing it, driving Shawn to the point where he could no longer hold back a high-pitched keening. "Marty...please..."

 

Marty's free hand gripped his cock tightly at the base, wordlessly telling him to be silent. Shawn warily returned to gnawing at his lip. In response for the quick correction of his behavior, Shawn was rewarded, Marty's finger massaging his prostate and sending tremors of passion throughout his body, his hardness jerking and leaking more with each pass over the small gland inside him.

 

Soon enough the one finger became two and two became three, stretching him and slicking his entrance, as Marty gently let Shawn's leg slip down to his hip. Shawn somehow maintained his balance as Marty dribbled a little more oil over his hand to generously slick his length, missing the full feeling of the fingers that had left him. He wanted more now.

 

Tenderly parting Shawn's ass, Marty tormented him by rubbing the head of his cock against Shawn's anus, forcing him to bite back the begging and pleading that played at the tip of his tongue.

 

Only when those tears of need flowed freely down Shawn's face did Marty deign to push inward. Both of them gasped and moaned as he slid into Shawn's heat with little resistance, the way well slicked and prepared. They took a moment's respite before Marty took Shawn in hand and began a slow, deep fuck.

 

Shawn had no idea how long passed, nor did he care, as Marty - his love, his former partner - moved within and on him, riding instead the waves of euphoria their passion afforded them both. Sweat lent their skin a sleek glow and wetted their hair. He felt a tightening in his groin, felt his balls drawing up in expectation as he neared the heated pinnacle, panting and groaning as Marty thrust harder and faster into him, the grip on his cock coaxing him closer to orgasm.

 

He shuddered when Marty ran his thumb over the tip one more time and cried out as he came, his clenching muscles dragging a low and ardent moan from Marty. The torrid spilling of his essence inside Shawn pulled another low moan from Shawn's throat as Marty let himself slump to the floor.

 

They'd spent a minute or so in companionable silence when Marty slid away, leaving Shawn alone on the carpet, cum dripping messily from his ass. Shawn lifted his head and blearily watched as Marty moved briskly to gather his clothes, yanking them on with little regard for neatness.

 

When he laid his hand on the doorknob, Shawn, still handcuffed to the desk, raised his voice and cried out, "Wait, Marty! What are you doing?"

 

Marty turned back, narrowed his eyes, and quietly replied, "The same thing you did to me: I fucked you over and now I'm gonna leave you where you lay." He locked the door as he walked out, slamming it shut behind him.

 

Shawn half-lay on the floor, his jaw gone slack and his heart broken to pieces, as his still hazy mind deciphered those words. "No... please, Marty..." he whispered brokenly, "I'm sorry. Please don't leave me..."

 

 

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**Blue Eyes and Black Leather**  
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by Orchid  
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[ ](http://www.geocities.com/dedicatedtotherockers/ficindex.html)  
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